


Fear to Tread, or: What Became of the Angelmobile

by orphan_account



Category: Angel: the Series, Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Pictures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-25
Updated: 2005-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica Mars rescues Angel Investigations.  Who else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear to Tread, or: What Became of the Angelmobile

**Author's Note:**

> For Vonnie.

Typical vampire. She rushed me, relying on that vaunted supernatural strength and speed. Fortunately, I was prepared. Never say that Veronica Mars doesn't do her homework. Holy water tranquilizer darts aren't a girl's best friend--but at times like this, they come close. She ran hissing into the night; I could see the steam in her wake.

She wasn't worth the lethal stuff, like the sunlight-filter beacons or the ultra-high-speed recordings of really useful spells on my iPod. I had my heavy-duty first aid kit, so I got to the victim. Too late. Again. I got out my cell and called a name I'd been given, some ex-cop who wouldn't think I was a crank, and left a message. I was out of my depth dealing with corpses.

Anyway, the car. You can tell a lot about someone by the kind of car they drive. What most people don't realize is that it works the other way around, too. This car had a history, and the history wasn't good. So of course it wound up with me. Weevil's uncle couldn't get rid of it fast enough--gabbled about a PCP gang. I didn't need the extra insurance payments, but there was something funny about the way Weevil made me take some of his grandmother's old rosaries. Talk about a relationship going faster than a girl expected.

I did some poking around. Dad contacted a friend in Vegas who knew this singer who might know someone who knew something--you get the idea. No help there.

Hold on. You know, I hate it when Mapquest isn't up to date. And I had a feeling GPS wouldn't help me where I was going.

I told Mac I was investigating some Goth wannabes and got her to do some hacking. Sure enough, the "PCP gangs" were a cover-up for something darker. Something big. And that wasn't all. In certain circles, this car had the kind of reputation you normally have to massacre small countries for.

You know what Sherlock Holmes said. I was faced with the evidence. I knew what was out there and I had to do something about it. Or at least about the car.

Anyway, the information exploded exponentially when I start hitting certain keywords. "Wolfram &amp; Hart." "Shanshu." "Black Thorn." Things like that. Not things like "apocalypse" that give you five zillion hits on Google, but I could put the pieces together.

Okay, there we go. The Hyperion. Nice architecture; normally I'd stop and get some shots of it, but I see what I've come for, the answer to this car, and it isn't forty-two or the Number of the Beast.

That alley isn't on the maps anymore. I have it on reliable authority that most people can't see it at all. But I'm in this car, and it knows the way. I don't know exactly what's on the other side. There's only one way to find out. And I've brought all the innovations that modern technology and one gal's budget can bring to bear against the forces of darkness.

I think I hear the hiss of dragons and demons in the wind.

Veronica Mars, cavalry to the rescue. You heard it here first.


End file.
